Rum In A Coconut (Escape)
by ArtificialAorta
Summary: Darcy's first real vacation in ages. Of course she pisses off drug lords and ends up stuck in a crappy hotel room with Clint and some guy named Bond.


**Summary**: Darcy's first real vacation in ages. Of course she accidently pisses off drug lords and is stuck in some crappy hotel room with Clint and a guy named Bond.  
**Characters**: Darcy Lewis/ Clint Barton; James Bond  
**A/N**: Idea stemmed from andiamburdenedwithgloriousfe els tumblr where they've created a great Clint/ Natasha gif series where they both know Bond and Clint doesn't like him.

* * *

This was supposed to be a nice, all major expenses paid vacation from Stark because he'd almost blown her up by balantly ignoring the protocol that Darcy had set up for him to avoid blowing anything or anybody up. He was _so_ not allowed to watch Mythbusters anymore. It didn't matter how many 'I'm sorry I almost killed you' presents he bought her. She was considering letting him see a few episodes because the trip to Barbados had pretty much topped any present she'd ever received. That is...until she and Clint got caught up with some drug lords in the luxury hotel's bar. Tony's thoughtful present had quickly become the worst present she'd ever got and the worst vacation by far.

Which was a shame. It was the first real vacation she'd had in a few years. As in, 'fly away somewhere nice and forget about your real life' vacation. Not just a 'sit around at home and not do anything' or 'seeing family because you had to' trips. An honest to goodness, sitting on the beach in a bikini vacation. She hadn't had one of those since sophomore year of college and that had been an embarrassing Florida spring break she didn't really remember. Nor did she want to. But this was going to top that. Not only did she have her hot agent boyfriend by her side but she would finally be able to show off her smokin' bod after all those hours training with Natasha.

When Tony had handed Darcy and Clint first class plane tickets and weeklong hotel reservations for the highest rated Barbados luxury hotel, she was ecstatic. The first thing she did was buy an expensive bikini that was specially made for busty girls. Not only did she look edible, but she had enough support for the girls so she could prance around, scuba dive, ride a hot air balloon, climb a mountain or what the hell else she suddenly decided to do. She had the outfit, she had the man and she had a beach. Nothing was going to go wrong.

Well…apparently it did.

Instead of lounging on the beach, she was in a 1 star hotel room, sweating her ass off in a dirty t-shirt and cut off jeans while her boyfriend was arguing with some guy who'd introduced himself as Bond, James Bond. This was _not_ how her dream vacation was supposed to go.

"What the hell are you two fighting about anyway? Who's going to be on top later?" asked Darcy, tired of their sniping at one another like a couple verging on divorce.

"What?" Both men tore their attention away from their posts to stare at her incredulously.

"Not even at gunpoint," Clint spat. "And _I'd_ be on top."

"You're mistaken, I'd be on top," Bond shot back.

"You know, I'm supposed to be wearing my custom made bathing suit on a beach strip that's been bought out so we can have private beach sex," Darcy continued to voice her displeasure for the third time in ten minutes.

"You think I'd rather be here?" Clint grunted, taking his eye off the hotel door, which he was covering with a gun that he'd apparently smuggled through customs because that's what Darcy's boyfriend did. He snuck guns on planes during vacations. When did this become her life? "I'm supposed to be suckin' rum out of a coconut and watching you prance around in the water like a high-end porno. Remember our sex list? Hammock sex was on it and I was really looking forward to that."

"It's not as exciting as you'd think. Hardly any leverage and the knots cut into your skin after a while," Bond added, going back to scoping out the window when he got glares for interrupting the lovers' spat.

"Are you comparing me to a porn star?" Darcy asked, amping up her attitude. Yeah, she was looking for a fight but she didn't care.

"No, but if I were it would be a compliment. Those ladies work hard."

"So you _are_ insulting me?"

"What? No! Can we talk about this later? Anytime we're not being hunted down by international drug lords would be good."

"You're the one who brought a gun on our 'no work, not even a little' vacation."

"You're the one who engaged the drug lords in the first place."

"How was I supposed to know complimenting a girl's shoes in the hotel bar was some drug lord code for 'give me all your drugs'?"

"And aren't you glad I brought a gun on the off chance shit went down?" asked Clint smugly.

"Hammock sex is _so_ not gonna happen," Darcy crossed her arms and Clint just groaned in frustration.

"Good call," said Bond, kicking the glass out the window and looking outside for an escape. "You know Barton, you should really learn to treat the women close to you like ladies. Maybe they'd stick around instead of running off to other men."

"If you say one more thing about Nat or Darcy, I will shoot you in the fucking face," Clint warned.

"Wait? Nat? Natasha? You know Natasha?" asked Darcy, surprised when Bond just nodded. "My god, is there some super spy Facebook I don't know about? Clint, you better not be using it to have an affair."

"I'm not having an affair. I should be having hammock sex with _you_ but Bond had to ruin my life. Like he always does."

"Don't exaggerate," was said at the same time as "Don't act like you're getting sex for a while now."

"When did this become rail on Clint day?"

"Since you brought a gun on our _vacation_."

"I wouldn't have to bring a gun if I could be sure you wouldn't accidently order a shit load of drugs."

"If I may interject, the both of you ruined _my_ mission," Bond risked, smirking at the shouts it earned him. "Miss Lewis was it? You have my promise that I will get you out of this unscathed and I'll come back to make it up to you."

"I'm not having sex with you either," frowned Darcy.

"I meant a nice dinner. Perhaps on the beach?" suggested Bond and Darcy decided that if this were any other man propositioning her, they'd have a leer on his face. Bond though, was still pulling off stoic. "You wear that bathing suit you've been talking about and I'll bring the champagne and caviar."

"Stop hitting on every woman I know!" complained Clint loudly.

"Thanks but no thanks secret agent man. I'm a one man kind of girl and my man's over there. Also I prefer raw oysters with lots of hot sauce."

"She's a classy lady," Clint couldn't help but snark but Darcy let it go since she started the inside joke in the first place.

"Can't say I didn't try."

Suddenly, there was a heavy thump on the door, an obvious sign that someone was trying to kick it down. Darcy screamed loudly.

"Maybe we should just tell them the truth. That it was all a mistake and I really did like her shoes," begged Darcy. Clint was pointing his gun at the door now, waiting for the bad guys to break through and Bond was tying sheets and curtains together.

"I don't think that's an option anymore, babe," Clint answered, voice all SHIELD business now.

"Miss Lewis, I ask that you shove aside your dislike of me for the moment and grab onto my waist."

"I said you weren't getting any-"

"No Darce, he's taking you down a few floors and getting you out of here. I'll shot these guys down and meet you at the hotel later, okay?"

"I'm not leaving you here, Clint!" Darcy started a little hysterically but let herself be held by Bond as he edged her to the window.

"I'm sorry but as much as I hate to admit it, Barton is a much better shot than I am. Rather do the dirty work myself but there's only a few minor gunmen out there."

"Bond, you so much as try to touch her ina-"

"Yes, my testicles on a platter. I got it," Bond said tiredly before getting a tighter grip on Darcy and jumping out the window just as the door burst open. This time, Darcy was able to hold in her scream as they broke through a window a floor down. She allowed Bond to usher her down the stairs and into a bathroom where they shimmied through the window, under the assurance that the men with guns would assume they'd have taken the front entrance. Somehow, Bond was able to keep his promise and no further harm came to Darcy. He left her with a large bottle of rum, a straw and an empty coconut shell, safe and sound in her hotel room. A few hours later when Darcy was taking a bubble bath and snacking on some room service, Clint showed up with a few cuts but not too worse for wear. After giving Darcy a kiss on the forehead, he perched on the edge of the tub, took a large swig from the rum bottle and sighed.

"Let's go to the beach Darce, I'm ready for this vacation to begin."

"Shot the bad guys?"

"Shot the bad guys," nodded Clint. "And ran. A lot. Then hid in a palm tree."

"You do smell like a monkey," Darcy pointed out with a sly smile. Taking the hint, Clint stripped down and hopped into the bath with her. Bath sex was the first thing they crossed off the list.

They had no more sight of Bond or drug lords after that night. But a few nights later, Darcy and Clint were surprised to find they had a free, romantic dinner on the beach complete with champagne, caviar, oysters and hot sauce. Maybe Bond wasn't so bad after all.


End file.
